


One Day, Six Years

by ThirdGenerationRockette



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Post-Series, Pre-Series, S1, Smut, Valentine's Day, s2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 22:40:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13668792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdGenerationRockette/pseuds/ThirdGenerationRockette
Summary: Valentine's Day...six of them.





	One Day, Six Years

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted as One Day, Five Years. Extra one added for the re-post, as a thanks for all of your lovely comments and reactions to me re-posting all of my fic like a woman on a mission :)

**2010: Exploring Other Options**

God, she’d totally forgotten about Valentine’s Day, the deserts of Afghanistan not exactly being wildly populated by Hallmark fucking card outlets. She’s been back in DC now for two weeks, and in three days it’s Valentine’s Day, a pleasant enough holiday when you have someone who loves you, someone who takes you for dinner and then eats you like the finest dessert when you get home...not quite so when you’re an idiot who took the best thing you ever had and essentially threw it to the lions.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she shrugs at the face looking sadly back at her. She’s wearing her office armour; pencil skirt, dark green shirt, heels, her hair is washed and her make up is done, but even she can’t deny she looks like shit. She's pale, there are dark circles under her eyes that no amount of makeup can hide, and she wears a tired, beaten expression that makes her doubt it's her own face looking back at her. She’s also well aware that craving a beer at 9.22am isn’t entirely healthy, especially as she’s on her way to potentially, probably, be told that CNN no longer has a job for her.

Two hours later, she gets her beer.

“We appreciate this has been a challenging few months for you, Mackenzie, and we feel that perhaps you need some time to decide your next move. At this point, we would like to let you know that you should feel free to explore other options. Options outside of CNN.”

Fuck them. Just, fuck them. She lived in caves for them, spent two years diving for cover, dodging bullets, living constantly on the edge of fear, doing whatever it took to file her reports, often with all hell quite literally threatening to break loose behind her. Every damn day she would look at her cameraman’s face to get an indication of whether they should start running or if they could likely make it safely to the end of the broadcast, get the story filed. And then she nearly died, and that was it, the beginning of the end. A series of psych evaluations, a ton of pills, a plane ticket in her hand and it was over. Now here she is, home again with a four inch scar across her abdomen that will forever remind her of what she did, so intrinsically linked is it to her mistake and her subsequent attempt to distance herself from it. It's not a neat scar, it's jagged and still has an angry red glow, but they did what they needed to, stitched her up and saved her life. It may be ugly, and it may ache in damp weather, and itch at night but it’s healing, albeit slowly. The scars elsewhere that stop her from sleeping, the scars that send her into a tailspin for a myriad of reasons she can't even begin to think about are the ones she feels may never heal.

Fine, she’ll just have to make some calls. There has to be a network somewhere looking for someone with her experience, and hell, she’ll take a salary cut if she needs to. She thinks she'll try London, maybe a change of scenery would be good, closer to most of her family, no chance of running into anyone…which is why New York might not be the best idea, not that she can afford to be choosy right now. If New York is where the work is then it's where she'll go...alright, she’ll think about this later.

She sits at the bar with a drink, it's not yet noon and all she wants to do is drink herself into oblivion. No job, a questionable mental health record, and a recommendation to "consider her options,” which hardly serves as a reference for any future employer. Three years ago everything was so different it almost feels like another lifetime, but she has nobody to blame but herself for sabotaging something that was good, something that could have been forever. She signals for another drink, aware that it's way too early, a trickle of fear creeping up her spine at the slippery slope she may be on, but promising herself just one more before she goes home and thinks about what comes next.

There's a poster on the wall at the corner of the bar, some fucking Valentine's Day promotion, like the happy are the ones who need that. Surely it's far more logical to appeal to the miserable and the lonely? "Alone because you ruined your life? Come here on Valentine's Day! Two for one, drink yourself into a stupor. Numb your pain." She laughs at her own joke, and her own misfortune, and the guy sitting along the bar smiles hopefully in her direction. Sometimes she wishes she was able to find comfort in casual, meaningless sex, but that's really not her thing, so...nope, never going to happen, mister. She leaves her money on the bar and walks out.

*

It takes a few minutes for the noise, the persistent buzzing, to break the fog surrounding her brain and yet another minute for her to recognise it as the buzzer telling her someone is here. She's outraged that someone has the flat-out balls to show up at such an ungodly hour, and on a _Sunday_ , until she looks at the clock and sees it's almost eleven, so she reluctantly climbs out of bed and heads for the door. She has to negotiate her way around the boxes cluttering up almost every available inch of floor space, reminding her that getting things out of storage is one thing, unpacking them is a whole different game.

"Yeah?" She picks up the receiver, conscious suddenly of her head spinning.

"It's me, let me up." Her sister's voice rings clearly through the intercom, and Mackenzie presses the button.

Grabbing the two empty wine bottles from the living room table, she heads for the kitchen, setting the bottles on the counter and pouring herself a glass of water, downing it in several big gulps.

"Hey, you in here?" Harriet calls from the hallway.

"Yeah, I'm here," she calls back, stepping out to meet her halfway, finding herself wrapped in a tight hug.

"Holy shit, I missed you." Harriet pulls back, looking at her sister suspiciously. "Did you just wake up?"

"I went to bed late." Mackenzie shrugs. "And I'm still on Afghanistan time."

"Is that code for 'I was really fucking smashed last night'?" Harriet asks, following her as she walks back into the kitchen, her eyes landing on the empty bottles.

"Do you want coffee?" Mackenzie ducks the question and heads for the fridge, pulling out the coffee and scrambling in her drawer for the scoop.

"I do want coffee, and I suspect you probably need it." Harriet says.

"Harry, please." Mackenzie hears the note of pleading in her voice and pauses before she continues, acutely aware now of the dull ache spreading into the base of her skull. "What are you doing here, by the way?"

"It's Valentine's Day," Harry says, as though that should explain everything.

"Yes, the most delightful of holidays for the miserable." Mackenzie rolls her eyes. "Nothing like being reminded everywhere you look that you're a stupendous fuck up, that you were part of one of those happy couples once, that-"

"You're not a fuck up, honey." Harriet stops her. "No more than anyone else, at least. What I meant to say was that it's the most bullshit holiday of the fucking year, I'm single, you're single, so I thought screw that, I'm going to see my favourite sister and we're going to eat a huge brunch. Alright with you?"

"Yeah." Mackenzie smiles, before turning to fill the coffee pot. “Did you just drive down here this morning?”

“Well, I didn’t fucking walk.” Harriet grins. “You just got back from two years in the shit end of nowhere, I wanted to see you.”

“I missed you too, Harry.” Mackenzie grins back, nodding at the bag in her sister’s hands. “What did you bring?”

“Everything.” Harriet pauses, her gaze running quickly down Mackenzie’s body, but not quickly enough to be missed. “And I’m glad I did, because I’m not going to lie, you look like you haven’t eaten in about five years.”

“Thanks.” Mackenzie snorts. “Your compliments never fail to hit the target.”

“I’m fucking serious.” Harriet heaves the bag onto the counter, her expression turning to one of concern. “I know things have been shit, and I hate to even think about what happened to you over there, but you’re back now…and shit, you need to eat something. You can’t exist on red wine, as much as you might want to.”

“I’m not existing on red wine.” Mackenzie sighs loudly, and it’s partly because she knows her sister is right.

“Hey.” Harriet softens. “I’m not here to lay down the law, and fuck knows I’d probably be drinking too if…look, I just wanted to have brunch with you, and for you not to be sitting here on Valentine’s Day moping about that fucking dumb blond idiot.”

“I wasn’t going to sit and mope.” Mackenzie pauses. “Well, alright, maybe a bit.”

They eat the bacon Harriet brought, and the eggs, toast, coffee, followed by more coffee, which they take into the living room and head for the couch. Mackenzie reaches for a tube of ointment on the table, pulling her t-shirt up slightly.

"Does it hurt?" Harriet frowns, watching as Mackenzie rubs cream across her scar.

"Sometimes. Mostly it just drives me insane with how itchy it is." She finishes and puts the tube back on the table. "But that's good, I think, it means it's healing? I don't know."

"It doesn't look so bad, Trip," Harriet says. "It's low enough that you're still going to look hot in a bikini."

"Good to know," Mackenzie murmurs. "I may have lost a fucking river of blood, my heart may have stopped twice before they stitched me up, and there's a good chance it screwed up my chance to have kids, but fuck, at least my bikini days aren't behind me."

"Shit, I didn't mean to...fuck, I'm sorry." Harriet winces and Mackenzie feels her eyes fill with tears. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry."

"It's ok, you couldn't have known, I just..." Pausing, Mackenzie wipes her eyes on her sleeve. "Hell, it isn't like having kids would have been on the table now anyway, I never really even knew I wanted them before I was with...anyway, it's fine."

"Are you...talking to anyone?" Harriet asks, cautiously.

"I have a referral, I haven't made the appointment yet," Mackenzie says, guiltily. "Make it, for fucks sake." Harriet reaches over and grabs her hand. "Please." "Alright," she nods. "I'll do it tomorrow."

"Promise me." Harriet squeezes her hand tighter. "Mackenzie, I'm serious."

"I promise," Mackenzie says. "For today can we just drink coffee and pretend it's not fucking Valentine's Day?"

"Damn straight we can," Harriet says firmly, smiling as Mackenzie shifts to lay her head on her sister's shoulder.

"Do you think I'll always be this miserable, Harry?" Mackenzie's voice is small, she hears it and barely recognises it as her own.

"You just spent two years being shot at, you were stabbed a few months ago, and now you're back home and having to look for a job, thanks to those fucking assholes at CNN. You've had a pretty bad run lately, give yourself a break. In answer to your question? No, I think one day you're going to be really, really happy." Harriet runs a hand through Mackenzie's hair. "You know what though?"

"What?" Mackenzie feels herself relax slightly under Harriet's touch.

"It's probably not going to happen unless you wash your damn hair," Harriet says, and Mackenzie hears herself laugh.

"You’re such a little shit." Mackenzie prods her sister gently in the ribs. "Happy Valentine’s Day,” Harriet says. “I’m glad you’re back.”

 

**2011: Beginning to thaw**

"God, Will!" She jumps as he knocks and walks into her office. "I thought you'd gone, I didn't realise...you scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry." He shrugs and sits down opposite her. "I thought you'd gone too but then I heard you singing, and saw your light on, so...I didn't think you still did that."

"Turn the lights on?" She smiles. "I'm afraid until I master the art of working in the dark, I will in fact need to keep using the lights."

"You know what I mean," he says. "That thing you do when it's quiet, the singing thing, humming, whatever it is. I haven't heard you do that since you've been back."

"I only really do it when I'm here late, I wouldn't subject anyone else to my particular brand of singing, you know that." She pauses. "I think it's just for background noise when everyone else has gone, and I really did think everyone else had gone."

"You _could_ just put on some music." He raises an eyebrow.

"Oh, now where's the fun in that?" She smiles again. "Why are you still here, anyway?"

"Why are _you_ still here?" He counters, leaning forward and resting his hands on her desk. 

"Working," she answers.

"You don't have plans tonight?" he asks. "You know, I mean, it's-"

"Monday." She stops him, not ready for where this is going. "It's Monday. Traditionally the wildest night of the week, I know, but I thought I'd take it easy this week."

"Come for a drink with me?" His words come tumbling out, his expression as surprised as hers.

"What?" Looking at him, she waits for the retraction she assumes will come, left silent when it doesn't.

"A drink, Mac," he says slowly. "Let's go for a drink? It's been quite the fucking day, and I don't know about you but I could use a scotch or two."

"Alright." She nods. "You do know that today is-" 

"Monday." He smiles. "Wildest night of the week, I got that."

"Ok," she agrees, wondering what he's thinking, asking her to go for a drink on Valentine's Day, but not daring to hope it's anything more than just Will being...Will.

The bar is quiet, it is still Monday, and it's late. The happy Valentine's Day couples are probably in bed by now, doing exactly what they should be doing on this particular holiday, everyone else is probably drinking at home alone, not with the ex whose heart they broke and who, four years later, they still crave with every damn heartbeat.

Mackenzie slides into the booth, watching Will carefully as he does the same opposite her, putting a martini down for her, scotch for him. Saying nothing, she raises her glass slightly in his direction and takes a sip, the pleasant burn warming her throat as she closes her eyes for just a second.

When she opens them he's looking at her, and it knocks her off balance because he's looking at her the way he used to, like she's more than just his EP, like he wants her to be more. God, he's harder to read than he once was, and she knows that has a lot to do with her. She's the one who sent his defences up, who caused him to be so wary, to stop trusting again after he had worked so hard to let her, only for her to smash his trust into a thousand tiny shards.

"What you did earlier." He pauses, taking a drink before he goes on. "It was really...you know, it was..."

"What _you_ did, Billy," she says, as he seems to be unable to finish his sentence. "They wanted to do something to thank you for what you did. They're good guys, you know, they want to do right by you."

"By you," he says, the warmth in his eyes catching her off guard once again. "Since you got here, they all just want to do better. It's you, not me, Mackenzie."

"Oh, I don't know." She smiles, feeling the relaxation that comes with her first martini as she looks across the table at him. "I think they're pretty impressed you know their names now."

"As they should be," he says, tapping the side of her glass. "Another?"

She nods and watches as he moves towards the bar, trying to identify what she's feeling but coming up with nothing but a jumbled mess of emotions. Sad, happy, hopeful...dare she hope that this could be the beginning of a thaw? Not for a moment would she dare to hope for anything more, but he hasn't looked at her like he's been looking at her today in so, so long that it's hard not to hope. And he hugged her, in front of everyone, just moved towards her and took her into his arms, wrapped himself around her and held on, his warm hands solid and comforting on her back. She had closed her eyes as she rested her head on his shoulder, partly because she was afraid she was going to cry, partly because she was so comfortable in his arms that she wanted to pretend the rest of the world had disappeared, that everything was ok just as long as he was holding her. He had pulled back eventually, as she thought he would (she could have happily stayed in his arms all night), but he hadn’t let go, instead sliding his arm around her shoulder and pulling her to settle against his chest as they watched the line of staffers snaking into his office. Only when the bullpen cleared out, when people started heading home, out for dinner, on dates, did they slowly break apart, smiling shyly at each other as they walked back to their offices.

It isn’t like they don’t go out for drinks, because they do, but it isn’t usually just the two of them and it’s never been fresh off the back of their first actual physical contact in years. It feels different, it feels like more than it probably is, and although she’s well aware that with this line of thinking she is setting herself up for brutal disappointment, nothing on earth could make her stand up and walk out now. She loves him, she’s in love with him, and she’s reconciled now to the fact that she’s always going to love him. Some days she wonders how her life will be if he never loves her back again, other days she’s certain that forgiveness will come eventually, and when it does, she’ll be ready. There are times when she questions how healthy that is, if she’s putting herself at his mercy based on something she did wrong years ago…but it isn’t like she can move on, she tried that with Wade, and it ended spectacularly badly. So here she is, waiting.

“I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the comfortable quiet that had settled between them. “About Wade, that was pretty fucking shitty.”

“Yeah, well.” She frowns, wondering again why she thought she could even try and be with someone else when Will still occupies all the heart space she has. “It was my own fault, I should have seen it coming.”

“Mac.” He leans in slightly and lowers his voice. “Someone else treating you like crap, fucking _using_ you, isn’t your fault.”

“Ouch.” It’s out of her mouth before she can save it and she sees a shadow flicker across his face. “Sorry, I-“

“That wasn’t aimed at anyone but Wade,” he says quickly, startling her by reaching across and covering her hand with his. “You have _got_ to stop doing that.”

“Doing what?” she asks. “Assuming those kinds of comments are about me? Yeah, that’s probably not going to stop happening any time soon.”

“He used you, Mackenzie,” he says. “Deliberately, to try to further his fucking career, that’s not what…well, it isn’t what happened with us, it’s not what you-“

“It is different.” She nods, pulling her gaze from his. “But his shitty behaviour doesn’t make mine any less so. All this has done is remind me again of what I lost, of how much I fucked everything up.”

“You know, when I suggested going for a drink, it wasn’t some cunning plan to make you feel like shit,” he says. “I’m going to get some more drinks, and when I get back we’re going to talk about sports."

“Sports, Will?” She smiles. “That’ll go well.”

“The weather,” he says as he stands up. “The new Valentino Fall line? I don’t know, whatever, just not… _this_.”

Three drinks in and she decides she probably should stop before she crosses the line from relaxed and hopeful into maudlin and sad, because even though it doesn’t seem to make sense, the more time she spends with him, the more she misses him. They stand outside the bar and she pulls her scarf more tightly around her, the February air biting against her face. He flags down a cab and when it comes to a stop, he opens the door and runs his hand slowly down her arm, smiling at her.

“Sleep well, Mackenzie. See you in the morning.” Moving his hand back, he watches as she climbs into the back of the cab, closing the door after her and tapping lightly on the roof.

Leaning back against the seat, she closes her eyes and smiles for the whole ride home.

 

**2012: A Thousand Steps Back**

“Kenzie.” Sloan walks in, slamming the door shut behind her. “There you are!” 

“In my office.” Mackenzie looks up. “Where I quite often am, yes.”

“It’s almost nine thirty,” Sloan says, glancing up at the clock on the wall. 

“I feel like I’m being given some sort of test,” Mackenzie frowns. “Am I?”

“Nah, no test.” Sloan walks over to where Mackenzie’s coat is hanging, picking it up. “Come on, we’re going out.”

“We?” Mackenzie sighs, taking off her glasses and looking up at Sloan.

“You and me.” Sloan stands in front of the desk impatiently. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I don’t have a date, I’m assuming you don’t have a date, so we’re going to Hang Chews.”

“I think I’m just going to go home.” Mackenzie shakes her head. “I don’t want to-“

“No way.” Sloan cuts her off. “If you have a date with a hot guy that you’ve managed to keep quiet then fine, I’ll let it go. Otherwise, you and me are going to get drunk. Well?”

“No date, no guy, hot or otherwise,” Mackenzie says, shutting down her computer, powerless against Sloan’s insistence.

A few drinks down and she's willing to admit that Sloan may have been right, that she would have spent the night sitting at home, moping, wondering where Will has taken Nina, and whether they'll turn up on tomorrow's Page Six, leaving Mackenzie to spend the day with a fixed smile on her face, wanting to die inside. Instead she's out with Sloan, and they're having some kind of muted fun, even if they really should call it quits after one more drink.

"We're hot, Kenzie, right?" Sloan sighs as she signals for more drinks, not expecting an answer. "Why don't we have dates on Valentine's Day? It's wrong, it's really quite fucking wrong."

"Well, I don't know about you." Mackenzie leans in closer. "But I turned down five, maybe six offers for tonight."

"You did not!" Sloan nods her thanks for the two martinis in front of them. 

"No, I really didn't." Smiling, Mackenzie reaches for her drink.

“When was the last time you went on a date, Kenzie?” Sloan asks as she starts on her martini.

“I date.” Mackenzie waves her hand, before taking a gulp of her drink. “I just don’t shout about it.”

“So, when was the last time? Who was he? Why don’t I know any of this?” Sloan frowns. “Do I know him? Is it-“

“God, Sloan, alright!” Mackenzie slugs back the rest of her drink way too quickly and signals for another. “I don't really date anymore, ok? I just...it doesn't happen, I don't see the point, it hardly seems worth bothering with. I tried with Wade and look how that went."

"Wade was an ass, and so totally not worth quitting dating over." Sloan pauses. "Wait, you broke up with Wade a year ago. You haven't been on a date in a year?"

"No," Mackenzie frowns into her drink. "I guess not, no." "Don't you miss it?" Sloan asks, eyes wide.

"I miss Will." Sighing sadly, Mackenzie slumps forward slightly, her head in her hands. "That's what I miss, I miss being with someone who loved me, someone who used to look at me like I was the most wonderful sight his eyes had ever landed on. I miss my Billy."

"Oh dear God." Sloan takes another drink, chasing an olive briefly around the bottom of the glass before giving up. "Don't you miss...the sex?"

"With Will? Of course I do," Mackenzie answers.

"I mean, generally. Like, if you never date...well, don't you miss sex, Kenzie?" Sloan's expression is so serious it almost makes Mackenzie laugh out loud.

"I suppose I do, sometimes, but you know, I just..." Mackenzie pauses. "I just can't do the meaningless sex thing. God, sometimes I wish I could...I tried once, a few months ago when I first found out Will was with Nina. I thought, fine, I can move the fuck on too, you'll see, so I got drunk and, you know..."

“And?” Sloan’s eyes light up and Mackenzie sighs. “How was it?”

“It was a disaster, if you really want to know.” She shrugs, remembering it with at least some modicum of amusement now. "I mean, if crying half way through qualifies as a disaster."

"It does," Sloan says, wincing. "Jesus, how did he react to that?"

"Well, I just closed my eyes and he carried on," Mackenzie says, shaking her head at the memory, wondering what made her think it was a good idea in the first place. "When he finished, he said 'I've never been with a woman who cried when she came'."

"Oh my god!" Sloan says.

"I don't know what was worse, that he just kept going." Pausing, Mackenzie drains her glass. "Or that he actually thought he'd made me come."

"Fuck, there's nothing good about that scenario." Sloan sighs.

"I never had that problem with Will." Mackenzie looks down into her empty glass, frowning. "I mean, _never_. We were good in bed together right from the first time, and he always knew just how to make me-"

"Kenzie, please!" Sloan stops her. "I'm not too drunk that I won't remember this conversation tomorrow, and I have to be able to look Will in the eye!"

"Yeah, sorry." Mackenzie smiles sadly. "It's true though, we were good together."

"It's bullshit, you know." Sloan reaches over and grabs Mackenzie's hand. "What he's doing with Nina. I don't know what the hell he's thinking, but it's-"

"He's thinking he needs to move on properly, he needs to forget about me, except as a work colleague, and he has, hasn't he?" Mackenzie feels her eyes fill with tears and thinks maybe she should have stopped a couple of drinks ago. "Do you think he's in love with her, Sloan?" 

"No, I really fucking don't." Sloan is emphatic.

"You know, I thought we were getting somewhere, Will and me." Mackenzie pauses as she wipes her eyes. "Things were getting better, or they seemed to be, and then I don't understand what happened, but he suddenly did a complete one eighty, then he brought Brian in to punish me all over again, and it felt like we'd taken a thousand steps back. And now he's with Nina, and every day I look at Page Six just dreading what might be in there-"

"Kenzie, you have got to stop doing this to yourself." Sloan stops her, her hand grasping her tighter.

"Yeah, I know." Mackenzie falls silent. "How long can I keep on like this? I mean, at what point do I accept I have to let go?"

"When he marries her?" Sloan pauses. "Shit, sorry, not helpful...also, never going to happen."

"He has a ring in his drawer," Mackenzie murmurs sadly. "It was going to be...well, I think it was meant for me."

"He bought a ring, an _engagement_ ring? When you were together?" Sloan splutters and, at Mackenzie's nod, she continues. "And five years after you broke up, he still has it?"

"Yeah. I said it was meant for me, I'm sure it can be resized." Mackenzie bites her lip. "For...whichever woman ends up with it on her finger."

"He has a diamond ring sitting in his desk drawer?" Sloan sounds incredulous.

"Yes, and if I hadn't fucked everything up, it would have been on my finger and I wouldn't be spending another Valentines Day miserable and kicking myself all over again." Mackenzie nods. "Oh God, I think I need to go home."

"I'm sorry." Sloan sighs. "I just wanted you to come out and have some fun."

"I did have fun." Mackenzie stands up and puts her coat on, smiling at Sloan. "I only cried for about ten seconds and, believe me, I'd have cried all night if I'd been at home."

"That's an interesting definition of fun." Sloan raises her eyebrows. "Alright, come on, let's share a cab."

*

The realisation that she's had more to drink than she thought sinks in on the cab ride home, at around the same time she remembers she hasn't eaten since the half a bagel she had for breakfast, about...seventeen hours ago. She really does need to get better at this, she's failing to take care of herself at all, she's not sleeping, she's probably drinking a little too much again, and she's throwing herself at the potential Genoa story because she thinks it might save her. All this as Will is settling into something with Nina, moving on with someone else, making her own place in his life very clear; she's his EP, a trusted work partner and nothing more. There is going to come a day, very soon, when she needs to accept it, when she needs to be able to look at him leaving every night without wanting to cry, because she really can't keep doing to this to herself. He doesn't love her, he's never going to love her again; it's over.

She drinks two glasses of water, washes her face and gets into bed, groaning slightly when she looks at the time. At least it's technically the fifteenth now, meaning another miserable Valentine's Day is over. The two that she spent with Will feel like a lifetime ago, the first one when he took her for dinner and then to bed for _hours_ , grinning at her when she eventually stumbled to the bathroom on very obviously wobbly legs. The second year she cooked for him and he thanked her on the kitchen counter, her legs wrapped tightly around him, his hands in her hair. If she hadn't told him about Brian, hell if she hadn't done what she did at all, they probably would have been married by now, spending every Valentine's Day together. Maybe there would be a baby too, a toddler making cards for her, big messy hearts with 'I Love Mommy' scrawled inside...she stops herself, needing to cut off this line of thinking because it's agonising, like a knife to her gut all over again. The same knife that dictated that even if by some miracle Will did ever forgive her, there's a good chance there would be no babies for them.

There was a moment once, when they were together- actually, there were two _days_ , when she thought she might be pregnant, enough that she had given herself one more day and then she planned to do a test. Of course, one more day was all her body needed to prove she wasn’t, and that was that.

Occasionally, she still thinks about how different things would have been, if she would have bothered at all to reveal her indiscretion of two years earlier, or if having Will's baby would have seen it pale into such insignificance that it would no longer have mattered. Not that it matters now, it’s too late, there was no baby and there more than likely never will be. There won’t be any ‘I Love Mommy’ cards, on Valentine’s Day or otherwise, and it’s nobody’s fault but her own.

 

**2013: Pancakes and Bacon**

Two more weeks. In two weeks they will move into their new apartment, start the renovations and live in chaos for however long it takes. She smiles at the thought because it will be worth the wait, and the mess, and the lack of...everything, because it will be a place that's _theirs_ , together. For now they're at Will's place, her things are packed, everything she doesn't need is in storage, and she has overcome her initial resistance to being here (she will even concede that having him throw out _all_ of his bedding may have been a little excessive), accepting that it made sense. Her place was easier to put right back out onto the rental market while his was likely going to take longer to sell.

They have talked and talked since they got engaged. About everything, the stabbing, about having a baby, about how she doesn't know if she can, about how much they hurt each other, and about Nina. The revolving door of dates she could deal with, she knew it was his way of coping, of trying, of pretending he was moving on, but Nina is a different story entirely. They eventually reached an impasse when she admitted tearfully that she knows he loves her, she's not worried about that, but she didn't know if thinking of his six months with Nina would ever stop hurting, that she couldn't lie and act like she was fine with it. He repeated his vow to never hurt her again, she promised the same, and three months later they've settled into something that feels easy somehow, like happiness _should_ feel.

Flicking the coffee machine on, she reaches into the fridge and takes out what she needs to make breakfast. She's been surreptitiously shifting his eating habits in a healthier direction, less bacon and more yoghurt, to his horror, but it's Valentine's Day so she's going to make pancakes and bacon, to hell with healthy for this morning. Realising she's only wearing socks, panties, and a huge flannel shirt, she considers turning the heat on but decides she'll warm up once she starts making breakfast so turns to grab a mug for coffee instead.

"You're up early." Will walks into the kitchen and she smiles as she reaches for a second mug too. "You're always up early, but I thought you told Jim we wouldn't be in until the rundown this morning?"

"I did." She turns and leans back against the counter, smiling at him as he walks over to her. "And we won't, but I wanted to make breakfast."

"Pancakes and bacon." He reaches the counter and kisses her, sliding his arms around her and pulling her against him. "I fucking love you."

"Happy Valentine's Day, honey." She moves her hands slowly up his chest, coming to rest on his shoulders.

"Is it Valentine's Day today?" He raises his eyebrows and moves his hand to slide under her shirt, his thumb sitting on her hipbone. "I guess it's a good thing I got you a little something then."

"Only a _little _something?" She smirks, shifting her hips against his. "I got you something too."__

__"You're making pancakes in nothing but a shirt and panties," he says quietly. "Best gift ever."_ _

__She lifts one hand from his shoulder and reaches into the drawer beside her, pulling out the envelope she had stashed there the night before and handing it to him, smiling as he pulls his hand reluctantly from under her shirt to open it. Biting her lip, she waits for him to open the envelope and pull out the two tickets sitting inside, grinning when he looks at her, his eyes wide._ _

__"We leave on Saturday morning," she says. "Everything at work is arranged, Jim and Don are covering for me, Elliot and Sloan for you. We get a week of peace and quiet, Will, just the two of us. Sunshine, sleeping, swimming, and outrageous amounts of sex. How does that sound?"_ _

__"You had me at the sleeping," he says. "You sealed the deal with the outrageous amounts of sex."_ _

__"I should think so." She grins at him as he puts the envelope on the counter and smiles at her._ _

__"It'll be good to have a break." He pushes her hair back behind her ear. "Do you remember the year we went to Paris for your birthday?"_ _

__"Mmm…" She closes her eyes briefly, smiling softly. "I do. I haven't actually been anywhere since then, not really...I don't think Afghanistan counts as a sunshine destination."_ _

__"Honey, I don't think anywhere that involves dodging bullets counts," he says._ _

__"And the last time _you_ took off anywhere, as far as I'm aware." She pauses, leaning up and kissing him. "You had a beautiful, leggy, blonde sportscaster on your arm."_ _

__"And this time I'll have a beautiful brunette, clueless about sports, best legs I've ever seen, and who I'm going to marry four months from now." He pushes her back against the counter and slides his hands back under her shirt, grinning as her fingers grip his shoulder._ _

__"Yeah, you will," she says as his hands move higher, giggling as his fingers tickle her rib cage. "Will?"_ _

__"Hmm?" His fingers stop moving and he leans down to kiss her neck, his teeth scraping lightly across her skin._ _

__"Do you want to go back to bed?" She moans softly as his hands slide up her back and his teeth once again scratch against her._ _

__"Nope," he says, pulling his lips away and lifting her to sit on the counter in one quick move._ _

__"Here?" She blinks at him as his hands go to work on the buttons of her shirt and hers move under his t-shirt, her nails scraping across his lower back._ _

__"Right here." He opens the final button sliding his hands across her collarbone, and she nods, her breath catching as he leans forward to kiss her, his hands moving into her hair as she sighs against him._ _

__She breaks the kiss, pulling her lips from his and pushing his t-shirt up, watching as he drags it over his head, dropping it to the floor. He reaches inside her shirt and runs his fingers once again slowly up her side, stilling his hand to cup her breast, his thumb stroking gently over her nipple. Pulling his face to hers, she kisses him again, her fingers tightening in his hair, her teeth pulling on his bottom lip as her nipple hardens under his touch. He pushes her shirt off completely and dips his head to rest where her neck meets her shoulder, his thumb still working her nipple tenderly as his free hand finds hers and squeezes her fingers. She tries to say something but all thoughts are pushed from her mind when he starts to suck at her neck, and all she can do is murmur his name. Her hand slides higher into his hair as his mouth moves from her neck, across her shoulder, leaving tiny kisses along her skin before heading lower, his teeth nipping at her collarbone as she moans. His hand drops from her breast and she sighs at the loss of contact, but it's a brief loss because his mouth replaces his hand and his tongue starts to swirl around her nipple, his lips sucking gently, his teeth grazing her skin._ _

__Raking her nails across his shoulder, she moans again as his lips latch on tighter, sucking harder as his hands reach around her and his fingers slip into her panties, stroking the soft skin of her lower back. She squirms almost involuntarily and pushes herself closer to him, sighing as he pulls his head back, the cold air hitting her as her nipple pops out of his mouth. He lifts his head and kisses her, one hand moving back to her breast, palming it softly as his tongue slides against hers, slowly, almost painfully slowly, as she feels a tightness in her belly, a wetness begin to seep into her panties. Without breaking the kiss, she lifts his hand from her breast and pushes it down her stomach, smiling against his lips as he knows immediately what she needs and runs his fingers slowly across her abdomen, her muscles twitching lightly under his touch._ _

__Pulling back, he looks at her and smiles as she plants her hands on either side of her thighs and lifts her hips just enough for him to slide her panties down her legs and onto the floor. He hooks his hands under her knees and shifts her forward slightly to the edge of the counter, moving his hands to her upper thighs as he looks up at her, his eyes dark and intense. When he licks his lips, never breaking the eye contact, she almost comes right there, instead letting out a long moan as he moves up to kiss her again, one hand cupping the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair. His other hand moves between her legs and she feels him run his middle finger slowly through her wetness, unable to stop herself from squirming against him and biting down on his bottom lip, harder than she usually would._ _

__"Sorry." She pulls back and runs a thumb tenderly across his mouth._ _

__Kissing her again, he pulls her towards him, his hand still cupping her head, and she braces herself against his shoulder as she feels his finger teasing, slipping just inside her, testing her wetness, sliding in deeper when she shifts her hips slightly to urge him on. When he crooks his finger and starts to stroke slowly inside her, she groans into his mouth and tightens her grip on his shoulder, her fingers leaving red marks across his skin. He slides a second finger into her and she pitches forward, burying her head into the side of his neck, vaguely aware that the marks her teeth are making may be above his collar line, but powerless to stop. His fingers move faster, deeper, and his thumb moves in soft circles as she rocks against him, her mouth open against his neck, her breathing ragged as he pushes her almost to the edge. One final twist of his fingers is all she needs, and she comes hard around him, crying out his name, grasping his shoulder tightly as she bucks against him, her eyes closing as he slowly pulls his hand back and rests it on her waist, his fingers slick against her skin._ _

__"God, Billy." She opens her eyes and pulls back to looks at him, her mouth still half open as she waits for her breathing to slow and her heart to stop pounding._ _

__Reaching forward and under the waistband of his pyjama pants, she smiles up at him as she takes him in her hand, not surprised to find him already well on his way to being hard; nothing turns Will on quite like making her come the way she just did. She starts to stroke him, her eyes locked with his as he unties the string of his pants and pushes them down, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. He kisses her, his hand cupping the side of her face, and he groans when she pulls away. He gaze once again meets his and she watches his breathing change as he grows harder in her hand, feeling his fingers run up her thigh as he moves closer. She takes hold of his free hand and brings it up to her face, her eyes fixed on his as she takes his index finger into her mouth, followed by his middle finger, sucking lightly on them, tasting herself as he watches her, mesmerised._ _

__Dropping his hand, she shifts slightly and he takes hold of her knees and gently pushes her legs apart, taking the final step closer to where she's perched on the end of the counter, letting her guide him towards her. She gives him two, three more strokes and moves her hand to let him slide slowly inside her, wrapping her legs around him as he does, feeling him reach around her and pull her tight against him. He starts to move and she hooks her arms under his, clutching at his shoulders as he runs a hand up her thigh, relying on him for balance. He drives deeper into her and she moans, softly at first, growing louder with each thrust, and he takes it as acknowledgement to pick up the pace. Moving just enough to kiss her, he murmurs her name against her lips, his tongue sweeping into her mouth before he pulls back and looks into her eyes._ _

__"I love you." He groans, and she hears her moans match his as he speeds up._ _

__Lifting her legs higher and clasping her feet tightly behind his back, the shift is such that with every stroke she's closer to coming again, and she knows she's getting louder, calling his name, moaning, telling him she loves him. His hands run across her shoulder blades and she leans back slightly, her eyes closing as she feels his head dip to capture her nipple between his lips, another loud moan coming from her throat as thrusts harder into her. She feels the warmth building in her centre and when his teeth scrape across her nipple, she comes again, her thighs shaking as she moves her feet higher up his back, her eyes struggling to focus._ _

__Kissing her, he pulls her legs towards him and she slides down to lie flat on the counter, absently pushing things out of the way as she does. He pulls her right to the edge, his hands on her thighs as he keeps pushing deep into her, and she sighs as she hears his breath catch and she knows he's about to come. Reaching up, she runs her hands slowly down his arms, feeling the hairs standing up, watching him as he closes his eyes briefly before he stills and jerks his hips against hers, emptying himself into her with a groan._ _

__He clasps her hands, his fingers tangling with hers as she smiles at him, feeling the flush from her chest up into her face, moaning faintly as he pulls out of her, feeling the warm stickiness between her legs. Pulling her up gently, he kisses her forehead, her nose, her cheeks, before finally resting his lips against hers, smiling as she gives him a soft, exhausted kiss._ _

__"I know you said you had something for me." She smirks. "But wow, that was-"_ _

__"I do have something else too." He pushes her hair out of her eyes, smiling at her._ _

__"Don't move yet," she murmurs. "This is nice."_ _

__"Happy Valentine's Day, honey." He kisses her again and pulls her against his chest, running a hand down the back of her head._ _

__"It's funny, you know," she says, after a moment spent silently regaining her breath. "Last Valentine's Day you were in love with someone else, and I went out and got drunk with Sloan. I think I like this year better already."_ _

__"Good," he says. "But I wasn't."_ _

__"Wasn't what?" she asks even though she knows what he's talking about._ _

__"In love with anyone else." He slides his fingers into her hair, gently rubbing the base of her skull. "I was only ever madly, hopelessly, insanely fucking in love with you."_ _

__“Okay” She glances up at him, her hand resting on his chest, over his heart._ _

__“Okay?” He quirks an eyebrow._ _

__“Mmm-hmm.” She smiles at him, mentally kicking herself for doing this again, for dragging them back to the Nina era, as she’s taken to thinking of it (although she doubts six months would officially count as an era). “I’m quite insanely in love with you too, you may have noticed.”_ _

__“I _had_ noticed.” He kisses her softly, his thumbs stroking across her cheekbones._ _

__“I will stop being such a shit about this one day.” She rubs her nose against his and smiles. “I promise.”_ _

__“You’re not a shit.” He pauses to kiss her again, rubbing a hand down her arm when she shivers, taking her hand and kissing her fingers. “But so you know, this ring was never going to be on anyone’s finger but yours, Mackenzie.”_ _

__“Glad to hear it.” She smiles, leaning up and looping her arms around him, kissing the side of his neck. “Now get me down off this counter, Billy, I need to clean up.”_ _

__“Shower?” He scoops her off the counter and picks up her shirt before reaching for his pants._ _

__“Yep.” She grins and takes his hand. “You’re going to wash my hair and then I’m going to make pancakes.”_ _

__*_ _

__It’s three minutes to eleven when they rush from the elevator, through the bullpen and into the conference room, Mackenzie choosing to ignore the raised eyebrows of a handful of the staff as Will is either oblivious or doing the same, she really isn’t sure. There was a shower, followed by the pancakes and bacon she had promised him, culminating in a grand finale of Tiffany diamond earrings and a letter that Will wrote to her after he found out she had been stabbed but had never sent. He had been so sweetly nervous handing it to her (“I don’t know if I should even be giving it to you, or if it should have gone in the trash three years ago, but I think I want you to have it, or to see it, at least…”) that for a moment she had been almost afraid to open the envelope. When she had opened it and seen the date at the top of the page, the ‘Dear Mackenzie’ in his all too familiar handwriting, she had felt her eyes fill with tears as the memories of that time came rushing back._ _

__Her attention is snapped back to the meeting and she looks down the table at Will, smiling faintly at him as he furtively adjusts his collar and therefore clues her in to the fact that he isn’t entirely oblivious. She seems to have come out of their morning escapades virtually unscathed, Will slightly less so, his high collar managing to cover the marks she left, while there isn’t a thing he can do about his bottom lip._ _

__It’s one of those days where the rundown almost writes itself, an eclectic collection of stories featuring the horse meat scandal in Europe, Oscar Pistorius being charged with murder, and the Republican Party filibustering Chuck Hagel’s Secretary of Defense nomination (she grins at the fun Will is going to have with that one). They may mess around a little with the order later, but for now the show is taking good enough shape that the meeting is over in a little over forty minutes and she heads out of the conference room, Will close behind her, his hand brushing the small of her back, his thumb stroking softly across her shirt._ _

__“So, Jim…” Tess says, as she watches Will and Mac head across the bullpen. “What _is_ the appropriate response when your boss says she’ll be late to work on Valentine’s Day because she needs to have wild morning sex with her fiancé, who is also your boss?”_ _

__Everybody looks up at Jim, their faces in various states of smirking, some growing into more obvious grins when he runs his hand through his hair nervously and drops his pen._ _

__“I don’t know that there is a set response,” he says, edging towards the door. “I mean, Mac just said ‘we’ll be late tomorrow’, and I said fine. I mean, what else would I say? Maybe they had an appointment, we don’t know that-“_ _

__“Unless the appointment was with a kitten, or some other scratching, biting creature, then I’m pretty damn sure they were having all the hot Valentine's Day sex this morning." Tess grins, clearly not finished. "I think it's awesome, he's so much less of a-"_ _

__"An ass?" Jim cuts in, his eyebrows raised._ _

__"A grouch." Tess smirks. "I was going to say a grouch, but hell, don't hold back, Jim."_ _

__"I'm not saying he's an ass _now_ ," Jim says quickly. "Just that he was always...I mean, he was-"_ _

__"He was miserable without Mac." Neal speaks up, pulling his gaze briefly from his Blackberry. "Now he has her back, he's not miserable. It's hardly rocket science."_ _

__"I guess," Jim moves towards the door._ _

__"Plus, you know." Neal grins, standing up and making it to the door before Jim does. "He's getting laid, and with Mac, who he really fucking loves. That's never going to make anyone grumpy."_ _

__*_ _

__"Did they give you a hard time?" Mackenzie bites back a smile as she walks into the hair and make-up room, walking over to him and running a thumb across his bottom lip. "About this, I mean."_ _

__"There was some smirking," he says, shrugging. "It was worth it though."_ _

__"I won't argue with that," she says, looking up at the clock above the mirror. "Alright, half an hour to air, I should get moving."_ _

__"You're sure you don't want to go out tonight?" He stops her with a hand on her arm. "We could just go for drinks, or I could get us a reservation somewhere, even this late."_ _

__"I know," she shakes her head. "I just want to go home. I'm going to cook dinner for us, then we're going to eat the dessert that I _really_ hope you remembered to buy-"_ _

__"I did," he says quickly, and she grins._ _

__"And then we're going to get drunk on champagne and go to bed." She leans in, lowering her voice._ _

__“Champagne?” he asks, eyebrows raised, a smile creeping onto his face._ _

__“Yep.” She nods. “I’ve had enough shitty Valentine’s Days the last few years, so now we’re back together we’re going to celebrate.”_ _

__“I promise you no more shitty Valentine’s Days,” he says, his smile wide now._ _

__“Can we write that into our vows?” She beams at him. “Love, honour, cherish, and no more shitty Valentine’s Days.”_ _

__“I don’t see why the fuck not.” He grins at her before leaning in and kissing her quickly, squeezing her hand as she pulls back._ _

__“Ok, I really do need to get moving.” She lets go of his hand and turns for the door. “Someone has to produce this show of ours.”_ _

__As she slips the headset on, watches him settle into his chair and wishes the team a good show at the thirty second mark, he looks up and grins into the camera at her. No more shitty Valentine’s Days._ _

__

__**2014: A Different Kind of Tired** _ _

__Her feet are propped up on the low table on front of her, and there is a giant cushion on her lap, and in the middle of it is her baby, like a tiny flower on a huge lily pad. It's been thirteen days and she can't stop gazing at him, at his tiny hands, his little feet, his soft tendrils of brown hair. He doesn't do much gazing back yet, he mostly sleeps, which she expected, but when he does open his eyes they're just like Will's but without the ability to focus, and she loves to watch him blink slightly before he scrunches up his nose and goes right back to sleep. She studies his face like it holds precious secrets, and each day she sees something different. His eyes are Will's, his mouth is hers, his tiny ears are from some delicate fairy not known to either of their families, and his powerful lungs are...well, she's willing to call it a 50/50 split._ _

__Will strolls into the living room and sits down next to her, giving her a surprised look when he sees that the baby is awake._ _

__"I thought he was sleeping." He reaches out and runs his thumb across his son's cheek, so gently that he barely touches him at all._ _

__"He was," she says, covering a yawn as she looks up at Will. "He's due for a feed which I'm sure he'll realise any second now and start screaming his tiny head off, but until then, he's just lying here, doing his thing."_ _

__"Dinner should be about an hour." He takes her hand from the pillow and laces his fingers through hers. "So in theory, he should be fed and sleeping by then and you can eat completely uninterrupted."_ _

__"Do you remember Valentine's Day last year?" She smiles._ _

__"I do." He nods. "Pretty sure I promised you no more shitty Valentine's Days, so I should warn you I could be about to break that promise with this dinner."_ _

__"Unless there's a shit pie in that oven, I think you're safe." She squeezes his fingers, falling silent for a few seconds._ _

__"Bullet dodged." He looks back down at the baby, now starting to fuss slightly, his fingers curling restlessly, his nose crinkling as his hunger kicks in._ _

__Mackenzie unbuttons her shirt and scoops the baby gently from the cushion, running her hand over his head as he settles at her breast and starts to feed. "There we go...dinner time for you, little McAvoy, and then Mummy and Daddy can have some dinner while you sleep, or that's the plan, anyway."_ _

__They've settled into an agreement, her and Thomas. She won't tell anyone that he doesn't know what he's doing if he does the same for her. It's taken almost two weeks but they seem to be finally figuring out the feeding situation, and the days where she genuinely feared it would never fall into place are starting to feel distant. For four days she was firmly convinced he wasn't getting enough milk, was almost certain he was permanently hungry and that if he never gained a single ounce it would all be her fault. He would feed so briefly and then scream and scream until he eventually wore himself out, and she would cry about how useless she felt, snapping at Will when he tried to calm her down. On day five, something clicked into place, and suddenly things felt easier, like they'd both found their rhythm, and she was completely overwhelmed with a relief like she's never known. He has a good appetite, he is Will's son after all, but he knows when he's done and then he's quite happy to hurl some of it back up and go right to sleep. He likes his daddy to burp him, and she wonders if he knows already that there are no hands safer than Will's, that no one will ever protect him like Will, or maybe he just likes the feel of Will's comforting hand on his back, just like she does._ _

__"You know when you're so tired, all kinds of weird things start to pop into your head?" She shifts slightly so she can rest her elbow against Will._ _

__"Yeah," he answers. "Go ahead, hit me."_ _

__"Well, what if he grows but his feet don't?" she asks, running her finger down his tiny foot. "Like, imagine if he ends up as tall as you but with tiny feet that he wouldn't be able to walk on."_ _

__"I think that's pretty unlikely." He grins. "But your concern is noted."_ _

__"Alright." She pauses. "What if something freakish happens and he ends up with my accent?"_ _

__"I'd actually be ok with that one," he says. "But unless we're planning on shipping him off to an English boarding school as soon as he can talk, I think that's unlikely too."_ _

__"We're not shipping him off anywhere, ever," she says, firmly, looking down at her son as he continues feeding._ _

__"Anything else?" he asks with a hint of a smirk._ _

__"Not for the moment," she tells him, slipping the cushion under her arm so she can move Thomas to the other breast. "I'm sure I'll think of something though."_ _

__"Well, I'll be prepared," he says, smiling at her. "Can I do anything, get you anything?"_ _

__"I'd really love some tea." She sighs as the baby stops feeding and briefly starts to fuss, but manages to find her nipple again and goes right back to where he left off. "Then you can burp your son while I go and try to make myself look human...comb my damn hair at least. It's Valentine's Day, I wouldn't want you forgetting what my original appeal was just because it's limited right now."_ _

__"Hey." He takes her chin gently in his hand and leans in to kiss her. "You have all of your original appeal and then some, honey, I promise you that."_ _

__"You say all the right things," she says, smiling at him._ _

__"I mean it," he says firmly. "You know that."_ _

__"I know." She bites her lip, feeling suddenly silly for her insecurity, smiling as Thomas starts to get restless._ _

__"I'll make your tea, and then I'll take him." He stands up and heads for the kitchen as she runs her finger down her son's cheek and he nuzzles back against her._ _

__Timing it perfectly, Will puts her tea down in front of her just as Thomas finishes feeding, his eyes heavy, his mouth no longer seeking out more milk. Handing him carefully to Will, she picks up the tea and turns to head for the bathroom, stopping as she reaches the doorway, watching them together, the baby up on Will's chest, his tiny head resting on his shoulder. As she feels a lump well up in her throat, she wonders if the sight of Will's hand resting on the baby's back will ever stop reducing her to mush, and thinks probably not. Finally moving from the doorway, she reaches the bathroom, puts her mug down on the shelf and stares at herself appraisingly in the mirror. She looks dishevelled, her hair definitely needs some care, and she looks dog tired, because she is dog tired, but it's a different tiredness than she has felt before. It isn't like Genoa, nor is it like when she first came back from the Middle East, because this time there's a light in her eyes, a brightness that wasn't there when her exhaustion was bred from misery rather than pure joy._ _

__She brushes her teeth, runs a comb through her hair and tosses the stained shirt she feels like she's been wearing for days into the laundry pile. The pants are staying since they're pretty much the only damn things that fit, but she steps into the bedroom and pulls out a clean shirt, another button down, easy access for when she needs to feed Thomas again. Back in the bathroom, she moisturises her face and follows it with the tiniest dash of colour to her cheeks, finishing with a hint of lip gloss before stepping back and looking at herself. She feels ridiculous for worrying about what she looks like right now, but as she looks in the mirror she realises it does matter, if only for how it makes her feel more like herself again._ _

__Walking back into the living room, she peeks into Thomas's basket, looking at him for a few seconds as he sleeps, taking in the gentle rise and fall of his chest, his hands curled into fists and raised above his head. She continues on into the kitchen where Will is making salad and piling it into a bowl. Stepping closer, she slides her arms around his waist and presses herself tightly against his back, smiling against his t-shirt as she feels him startle slightly._ _

__"Don't let me interrupt," she murmurs, her voice soft, muffled slightly against the blue cotton._ _

__Lifting her hands from his middle, he turns around to face her, pulling her to him, his hands warm on her back as her arms slide around him once again._ _

__"All done here." He kisses the top of her head. "Hungry?"_ _

__"Mmm, I am, actually." She pulls back to look up at him. "What can I do?"_ _

__"You can sit down and wait for me to bring you dinner." He leans down and kisses her, smiling as she sighs against him._ _

__"Thank you. I should have a baby more often," she says. "Not really, this one is exhausting enough, but you know what I mean."_ _

__"I do," he says. "And you're welcome."_ _

__Thomas sleeps happily on as they eat dinner, as Will gives her yet another Valentine's Day gift on top of the flowers and bracelet she already woke up to this morning, and when Will checks on him as they move back towards the sofa, he's still sleeping. Mackenzie half steers, half pushes Will down to sit and then lowers herself onto his lap, smiling and kissing the side of his neck as he brings his arms around her._ _

__"If I fall asleep here," she says, her lips still on his skin. "It's because you're warm and comfy, Billy. And because I'm fucking exhausted."_ _

__"And full of dinner?" he asks, smiling as her hand covers his. "That too," she slides slightly lower and snuggles against his chest._ _

__When she does wake up, having no memory of having fallen asleep, Will has managed to move her from his lap and cover her with a blanket and is sitting beside her, Thomas in his arms, awake and wriggling, small sounds of unrest coming from his lips but not yet in full unhappy screeching mode._ _

__"Can you hold out a little longer?" Will coos, rocking the baby slightly. "Mommy's just napping, you wear her out, little guy."_ _

__"I'm awake," she murmurs, shifting slightly so she can see both of them, leaning in to look at Thomas's face, his light blue eyes darting towards her. "Hi baby, have you been good for Daddy?"_ _

__"We've been having a good talk," Will says, looking up from his son's face to his wife's. "We got a lot of things squared off."_ _

__"Really?" She smiles at him. "I hope no major decisions were made without consulting me."_ _

__"Never." He grins. "I was just telling him who the wisest one in this house is, so you have nothing to worry about."_ _

__"Hungry, young man?" She smiles at the baby as he begins to scrunch up his face, ready to make it quite clear that's it's dinner time._ _

__As Thomas settles in to feed, Mackenzie gestures towards Will's guitar, propped up in the corner of the room, recalling how when she was pregnant the baby would settle almost immediately at the sound of Will's music. "Play something for us, Billy."_ _

__As he sits down opposite them and starts to play, she smiles and looks down at their son, the best Valentine's Day gift she could have hoped for._ _

__

__**2015: Here We Go Again** _ _

__“You're sure you don't me to come with you?” he asks as she puts on her coat and reaches for her bag. “I could put him in the stroller, he'll probably sleep.”_ _

__“No, I'm okay.” She leans in and kisses him on the cheek before doing the same to Thomas. “I won't be long. I'm just going to pick up what we need for dinner and then I'll be back. Do want me to bring coffee?”_ _

__“We could just order in, you know. Dinner, I mean, not coffee.” He watches as she moves towards the door and she smiles as she turns back to him. “You wouldn't have to cook, we could-”_ _

__“I _want_ to cook, Billy.” She's told him more than once and she'll keep telling him until he stops insisting on take out. “It's Valentine's Day, you cooked for me last year when Thomas was a tiny limpet who would barely let me move. This year he loves nothing more than being entertained by you and I fully intend to capitalise on that. I'm putting you in charge of wearing him out so we can eat dinner in peace.”_ _

__“Alright, I can do that.” He grins, taking hold of Thomas's hand when he grabs for his hair, a determined look in the baby's eyes._ _

__“I won't be long, okay?” She kisses them both, wavers slightly as she opens the door, and his confident smile reassures her._ _

__“Take as long as you need, honey,” he says, running his thumb down their son's cheek. “We're good here.”_ _

__*_ _

__It's cold, almost brutally so, and as she turns the corner, the wind feels like a slap to the face. Pulling her scarf higher, she quickens her pace, motivated by the warmth she hopes the store will offer. As she walks, she thinks again about the news she's going to be breaking to him at dinner, the news she almost blurted out over breakfast having freshly taken her third test, the one that cemented it as fact in her mind. As apprehensive as she is at the thought of them somehow having to learn to manage with a baby and a toddler, her excitement overpowers any fear, and she smiles as she thinks about how they once again seem to have defied the medical odds they were given. Walking into the store and picking up a basket, she suddenly knows what she needs to buy to accompany her announcement, and she goes searching for it._ _

__She had almost forgotten what it was like to shop at leisure, not having to grab the essentials on the way to or from work, or en route to collect Thomas. More often than not she ends up taking him with her and trying to keep him amused while attempting to remember what the hell she came shopping for to begin with. She lost count long ago of how many times she's arrived home with plenty of food she had no intention of buying and no sign of the one or two necessary things she originally _had_ gone to pick up. Today she can wander, she can throw things into the basket that she hasn't tried before, she can browse, and she can make sure she has every single thing on her list before she moves to the checkout. Leaving the store, she detours slightly to pick up coffee for Will, a Chai latte for herself (figuring she may as well start getting used to cutting down on caffeine), and then she starts towards home. _ _

__The apartment is quiet when she walks in, and she takes the opportunity to put the shopping away, quickly so the drinks she's brought home stay hot. They're in the living room, she can hear Thomas's giggles and Will's voice, and it makes her smile._ _

__“I brought coffee.” She puts the cups down on the table, smiling as he looks up from where he and Thomas are playing with building blocks on the rug._ _

__“Thanks,” he says, smiling back at her. “You get everything you needed?”_ _

__“Yep.” She sits down, ruffling Thomas's hair as she does. “And now I'm going to lie here and drink this while you two boys carry on with what you're doing.”_ _

__*_ _

__All she knows when she opens her eyes is that it wasn't dark outside when she closed them. She's aware too that there's a hand stroking gently down her foot, a touch so gentle and so familiar that she's sorely tempted to let it lull her right back to sleep. Instead she forces herself to sit up, just enough to look at Will, watching his face as he smiles sweetly at her._ _

__“Good nap, honey?” His hand comes to rest on her ankle, his thumb running around the bone, tickling faintly._ _

__“Mmm, I didn't mean to fall asleep, sorry, I...” Suddenly she wants to tell him, she doesn't want to wait until dinner, and she wonders why she didn't just tell him this morning, as soon as she knew. “Where's Thomas?”_ _

__“Doing exactly what you were doing until a few seconds ago,” he says, pointing vaguely in the direction of the bedroom. “Building all these blocks is tiring. As is grocery shopping, it seems.”_ _

__“Yeah, apparently so. Did I at least finish my drink before I fell asleep?” she asks, having no recollection of having taken a single mouthful._ _

__“I don't think you even started it.” He confirms what she thought and she shrugs before sitting up._ _

__“Ah well, the nap was worth it.” She turns to him and takes hold of his hand, lacing their fingers together and smiling at him. “So...”_ _

__“So?” He tilts his head, appearing to recognise something in her tone. “You alright?”_ _

__“Yeah, I'm...actually, I'm thirsty...” she says, smiling and moving to stand up, stopped by his arm catching hold of hers._ _

__“I'll go.” He squeezes her arm and stands up. “Do you want tea?”_ _

__“No. Something cold, please.” She smiles at him, a smile that she can barely stop from spreading into a wide grin. “I put some bottles in the fridge when I got back, they should be cool by now.”_ _

__She sits back and waits, wondering how long it will take him to notice exactly what she bought, not entirely sure he'll notice at all. His expression when he walks back in mirrors the one he wore at Charlie's funeral when she dropped the first pregnancy bombshell on him, and she does nothing more than grin when he holds up the bottle of peach iced tea and raises his eyebrows._ _

__“Yep.” She takes the bottle out of his hand and pulls him down to sit beside her. “Here we go again.”_ _


End file.
